Chapter 25

Minas Tirith

May 3019

The kiss was soft, gentle and slightly hesitant. On Lothíriel's lips, Éomer could taste the honeyed mead she had sipped from a cup before their dance along with what he figured was her own unique taste. A quiet moan escaped from her lips and Éomer lost any sense of propriety and etiquette he had been desperate to hold onto. Pulling her even tighter into his embrace, he guided her arms around his neck to help her balance herself against him before deepening the kiss. His fingers tangled in the loose locks of her hair as he cradled the back of her head in one of his hands. She didn't struggle against him, rather, she seemed to melt into every crevice of his body as if the two of them were truly melding together.

Finally, his senses returned to him and he realized how they were surrounded not only by his countrymen but Lothíriel's as well. He broke their contact and Lothíriel opened her eyes. Her eyes were glassed over and he could see a heat and desire within them that stirred his own deep want. She blinked once. Twice. Her eyes cleared as she no doubt remembered where she was, and understood what she had just done. Around them there was utter silence. Her face flamed bright red as she began to back away from Éomer. Her heel caught on the train of her dress and she nearly fell backwards except he reached out and steadied her.

"I- er," she looked around as some of the people began to whisper to each other. The Rohirrim's expressions were mainly that of joy and excitement while the few Gondorian men and women who had attended were shocked and dismayed at the public display of affection.

"- especially with a man she's not even betrothed to." One of the Gondorian women stated. It was clear that Lothíriel could hear her because tears began to pool in her eyes, though they never spilled over.

"I think we should go." Erchirion's voice rang up clearly and he stepped forward, encircling Lothíriel under the protection of his arm before quickly and skillfully guiding her back through the mess of tents until they were out of Éomer's sight. He simply stood, pinned to the spot. Her taste still lingering on his lips.

"Well you certainly staked your claim." Amrothos teased. He had thankfully waited until they were home to speak, allowing Lothíriel to process what she had done during the ride back.

"She did more than stake a claim," Erchirion's voice was a great deal less amiable than Amrothos'. "What were you thinking?" His eyes bored into her.

"I don't know. It just felt right." She paused.

"It just felt right?" Erchirion sank into an armchair across from where Lothíriel was sitting.

"Well," Amrothos' chipper voice was in stark contradiction to the tension in the room, "what's done is done and there is nothing we can do to change the past."

"Yes, but what are we going to tell Father?" Erchirion turned his attention to his brother. "We cannot wait for him to find out on his own, and he will if we don't tell him quickly. The news that Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth kissed a king in full view of not only his countrymen, but several of Gondor's elite will be the gossip for weeks at least!"

"I'm sorry," Lothíriel turned her face away and the light from the fire caught the glint of wetness on her cheeks. Immediately Erchirion softened. He stood and strode over to his sister, placing his hand under her chin, he guided her to look back up to him.

"Perhaps you have been in the city too long. I know how much you love Dol Amroth. You should return. See Meira and their newborn. Be near the sea again."

"You would have her leave the man she loves?" Amrothos interjected. Erchirion felt his irritation growing.

"Love? They have known each other for such a short time and seen each other even less unless I'm mistaken." He shook his head. "No. Love does not grow so quickly as a weed. It must be nurtured over a long period of time, like with Elphir and Meira." He returned his focus to Lothíriel. "For tonight, go and rest. We will speak with Father at breakfast."

Silence fell on the room until they heard the latch on Lothíriel's door click into place. "She does love him you know, and he loves her." Amrothos leaned against the wall beside the fireplace.

"What I saw tonight was not a man in love. I saw a man filled with lust as well as an infatuated innocent girl." His anger heated as he remembered the way Éomer had touched his sister.

"Well that innocent girl is the one who initiated the kiss." Amrothos' voice had lowered as he faced he fire, rather than continue to look at his brother.

"If he loved her like you say he does, then he would have a care for her reputation. He allowed himself to be carried away in the heat of the moment."

"Love can be passionate."

"He has scandalized her." Erchirion ignored Amrothos' point. "How on earth is she to find a decent husband after news of that display comes about? He should know that after this, whenever a noble looks at her, they will see a woman with loose morals."

"He is from another country. Their customs are surely different from our own."

"Still –" Erchirion began another point but Amrothos interrupted him.

"It is late." He straightened. "I believe everything will look better for everyone after a good night's sleep." Before Erchirion could respond, he left the room.

Erchirion sighed and fell back into the armchair. He loved his sister deeply. They had always been close, but the two of them had grown considerably closer during their time in Rivendell and he had been sorely disappointed when she had stayed in Minas Tirith after they had journeyed back. He knew it was his own fault for not visiting her while she had been forbidden to leave by their uncle. He had abandoned her for Dol Amroth and its vast libraries and sea. He knew she didn't begrudge him for it and was happy to see him now, but still, he should have visited her sooner. He had got his sister back; he didn't want to lose her so soon. As he stared into the dancing flames, that truth haunted him.

Éomer awoke before the dawn, his head pounding. He knew he had enjoyed too much of the mead brought from Rohan, especially after the Dol Amroth party had departed. This would have been a perfect day to sleep in. It had been a restless night for him but the habit of waking before the sun no matter the quality of sleep had always remained. Shaking the thoughts of the previous night away, he pushed off the heavy covers and forced himself up. He found a bowl of cold water waiting for him. He splashed his face with the water and felt his breath leave him in a rush.

The icy fingers lingered on his skin and the pounding worsened. Taking a seat he chastised himself for not having the foresight to restrain himself. The headache did not lessen until the first rays of sun began to glint over the horizon, bringing a gentle golden light into the room. He pushed himself up and made his way towards the stables. Firefoot needed to be tended to and then he would find Lothíriel in the House of Healing.

Lothíriel opened her eyes with a sigh and sat up. Light streamed in through her window. She had hardly slept a wink. Her mind had kept playing the kiss over and over in her head. Éomer's earthy taste. The smell of leather. The way his hair felt. His arms holding her so tightly she thought she might be crushed. Then, after the kiss, the shocked faces of the Gondorians. The Rohirrim had looked equally as surprised, though their countenances had seemed on the edge of pleased where the Gondorians had looked angry and scandalized. Then her conversation with Erchirion and Amrothos the night before.

Would it be best to leave for Dol Amroth? She knew in her heart that she loved Éomer, but what had she done to deserve him? And what if Erchirion was at least half right? What if Éomer didn't love her, but felt more base feelings for her? He was a man of honor and wouldn't pursue her in that manner without being wed to her, she was quite certain.

But then there still remained the other problem. She had been betrothed to his cousin. And though he had been dead for many months, she had only just found out before the end of the war. What was worse, she knew she had played a part in his death. She should have never worn the circlet. She had never loved Théodred, and so his loss had not been heartbreaking, but the weight of guilt still lingered. Certainly she had liked him and knew that a friendship would have grown had he lived and they married, but not the intense love Éomer instilled in her. She nodded as she made the decision to tell him everything.

The Rohirrim valued honesty a great deal, and perhaps Éomer would be willing to forgive her for Théodred's death. Though she dared not hope he would love her after hearing the truth.

The royal gardens of Minas Tirith were something to truly behold. Some of the pathways had hedges that were almost taller that even Éomer, while others were littered with flowers that were blooming as if proclaiming the very heart of spring. He had been sorely disappointed after going to the House of Healing to call on Lothíriel only to be told that she had been given the day off. He had decided to try and find her at her home when he caught sight of her turning into one of the hedged paths. Smiling to himself, he pursued her. She had taken a seat in the shadow of a hedge and was staring blankly towards a small fountain. As he began to approach her, he heard voices from the other side of the hedge. He didn't see them and was fairly sure they hadn't seen him. He was about to ignore them when their words caught his attention.

"So she initiated the kiss?" The voice belonged to a young man. "My goodness," he chucked, "she certainly does want to become a queen."

"Is it so surprising?" A young woman responded. "She lost out on her chance for the crown after that other prince died during the war." Her tone became bitter. "It's not as though it's much of a challenge. He seems utterly smitten with Princess Lothíriel." Éomer felt as if he had been slapped. Lothíriel's interest had been in gaining the crown?

"I had heard that she begged her crazy uncle to set up the match with Prince Theored" The man said more softly.

"It was Théodred I believe."

"It's not as if it matters. The point is, I know that she is acting specifically for King Éomer's benefit. Did you see how she behaved at the midwinter celebration? She didn't dance with anyone, not to mention she had hardly a kind word for anyone if even she spoke at all. In truth, I didn't know if she had a voice until I heard her speak in front of King Éomer."

They continued on, but Éomer had heard enough. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he looked back at the woman he thought he knew. It was true he had gotten to know her a little as a child when she had ridden through his country, but she couldn't possibly be the same woman. Had he fallen in love with a lie? Had she truly toyed with him until he was prepared to offer him not only himself but his kingdom? He could feel the heat of his temper rising. How could he have been so foolish?

Lothíriel seemed to have come out of her daze and waved at him, a warm smile on her face. It took a great effort to remind himself she didn't truly feel anything for him and with that effort his temper was further fueled. He began to leave but she called out to him.

"Éomer!" He stood rooted to the ground and turned his head back. He regarded her coldly and she stopped several feet away from where he stood, pinned by his gaze. Her smile had faded somewhat. "What's wrong?"

He faced her entirely and took long steps until he was towering over her. His words never grew louder than a whisper. "You were engaged, weren't you?" Her face grew incredibly pale as she opened her mouth, but not a sound escaped her parted lips. Finally she nodded. "To my cousin who was meant to be Rohan's King after my Uncle Théoden?" Her mouth closed as she nodded again. There was no longer even the hint of a smile on her shocked face. "I can hardly believe I nearly fell for your farce! You must have laughed at having the King of Rohan twisted around your little finger." His hand closed into a fist.

"I was going to tell you today." She finally forced out, tears spilling from her eyes. "I swear I didn't love him."

His voice grew even lower. "Of course you say you would have told me the truth. It is an easy thing to say you would admit the truth after your lies have been brought to light. And I already knew you didn't love him, just as you don't love me. Your only love was the prospect of being queen. Well I will have no more of it! And I will have no more of you." He bowed stiffly to Lothíriel. "Good day, my lady. We will not see each other again!" His heart was heavy in his chest as he watched her knees give way and she sank to the ground. She stared forward at him dumbly. He reminded himself again that she had deceived him and was only trying to ply at his compassion with the lie of a broken heart. Forcing himself to tear his eyes from her, he turned and strode out of the gardens, not caring who was watching.

Lothíriel watched him leave the gardens. Everything in her wanted to chase after him. Explain herself and how she did truly love him, but his eyes had been so cold. Tears ran down her cheeks, as she struggled to regain her composure. She heard someone approaching from behind her, but she did not turn or acknowledge their presence. Finally the person stopped directly behind her.

"Lothíriel?" The light, familiar voice was so unexpected that Lothíriel faced the newcomer. It was none other that Glorfindel. "My goodness! What has happened?"

This time when she opened her mouth, she was not mute. Sobs began wrack her body. "He is gone. It's all my fault. He's gone." Glorfindel reached down and helped her up, keeping her steady.

"Let us return to you home, my dear. You can refresh yourself there." They continued until they had left the gardens.

"No." She stiffened. "I am sick of this city." She began to feel herself crumple again. "I just want to go home. My real home."

Near-Harad

May 3019

Yusraa rushed into Na'man's tent. As she entered, many of the men who had joined him earlier turned in a rush, some even reaching for their curved daggers at the sudden and unexpected entrance. After seeing it was the enchantress, most of them lowered their weapons though some continued to hold them as they watched her suspiciously. Na'man looked calmly at her but something in his eyes warned at his displeasure at being disturbed.

"What is it Yusraa?" He sighed as he stood from behind a table laden with maps.

"My ravens have been watching the Oracle as you instructed me to upon your return." At her words, his eyes lit.

"And?"

"There is an opportunity, though I know not how great, to retrieve her." She watched as he moved from behind the desk until he was directly in front of her. "She is currently leaving the protection of the White City and is heavy of heart and will more easily be moved by my," she paused, "persuasions."

"You have done well." A sneering smile spread on his lips. "Nild!" He barked. A slave boy entered the tent, his face downcast. "Ready four horses for immediate travel." The boy bowed, saying nothing as he backed out of the tent. "Yusraa," he turned his attention back onto the enchantress. "Be ready to leave within the hour. The gods have blessed us that we received this news when we are already so close to the border! I will have the Oracle before the middle of summer." Yusraa turned and left, the sound of Na'man's triumphant laugh sounding out from behind her.